Five Things That Never Happened to Mr Morden
by Jaxa
Summary: Five scenes from Morden's life: What could have happened? What did he not want?


**Five Things That Never Happened to Mr. Morden**

© by Jaxa (jaxa[at]teeptown.de),  
21.02.04/12.04.04/15.06.04

_Author's notes: _

_A response to the "Five Things That Never Happened on Babylon 5" challenge!_

_Spoilers for seasons one to four and the books "The Shadow Within" and "The Passing of the Techno-Mages". Sorry about that, but it really isn't easy to write about meaningful events in Morden's life without including those…_

_Part One _or _The Beginning That Never Ended It All_

He quietly watched the woman sleeping blissfully next to him, a gentle smile spreading on her lips as she snuggled closer to his body; hers was warm, her skin soft as her arm touched his bare chest. He took a deep breath; when the sweet smell of her hair filled his nose he found himself relaxing instinctively.

She was so beautiful; he could have lain there and watched her forever. He wished they didn't have to part in a couple of hours; her and their daughter for a vacation to Earth, him back to work on a dig somewhere in the middle of nowhere. He didn't want to leave her. No, not yet.

Frowning, he wondered what would happen if they both stayed. His superiors probably wouldn't be overly happy; they needed him, needed his expertise. However, didn't his wife and girl need him as well? They only had each other, but Earthforce surely could find hundreds, well, let's they at least a couple of other archaeolinguists like him. And he really did not want to leave.

When he looked back at her, he noticed that her eyes were open and that now she was the one who was watching him. The smile that spread on his face was being reflected in her eyes as she whispered: "What are you thinking about?"

Taking another deep breath he lay back and replied: "I was just thinking that I would like to stay here, with you and Sarah." He could feel her lying back as well, her head next to his on the silken pillow. Her hand found his and for a while they both quietly watched the twinkling lights on the ceiling of their hotel room, content with being together and enjoying their closeness.

Finally she spoke: "Well, then let's just do it. My mother surely can wait a few more days to see her daughter and grandchild, and I'm sure your boss will understand that you'd prefer spending your wedding anniversary with your wife. It's what we both want, isn't it?"

Instead of replying, he simply turned over and kissed her.

_Part Two _or_ What He Did Not Want_

He screamed. He screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and nothing in the whole, wide world could make him stop. They were dead; they were both dead! His wife, his beloved wife, and his precious daughter. They were dead! Oh, God, they were both dead.

He didn't see the cameras that were taping his anguish, the reporters that tried to ask him how he felt about this horrible accident, or the people that stared. He saw nothing. Nothing but the image of their ship exploding, just as the Jumpgate was about to open and take them to safety. Oh, God, he couldn't get the image out of his head. They were dead.

Hours later, he had finally gone quiet. He lay on his bed, fully clothed, unable to move, or to speak, or to cry. He simply stared at the ceiling, seeing nothing in the darkness of the unlit room. He wanted to cry, but couldn't. The tears wouldn't come. He was numb, completely numb. All he could do was hold the black Anfran love stone that had meant so much to his wife in his clenched left fist. That was all he had left. They were dead.

Days later, he tried to get back to work. Surely that would help. People were telling him that he should go on a vacation, that he would feel better then. He knew that he would never again be able to feel better. Everywhere he went he could see people pointing at him, whispering behind his back, giving him patronizing looks. His face had been on the news feeds almost non-stop, they had shown his agony and pain over and over, the pictures accompanying every single report of the Io Jumpgate bombing. He had stopped watching the news, in case they might show the explosion again. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't concentrate. His boss had forced him to take four weeks off. They were dead.

Weeks later, he still hadn't gone back to work. There was too much pain. The only way he could sleep at all was with the stone in his hand. That way at least a small part of his wife seemed to be with him. They were dead.

Months later, he got a call. A dig. For IPX. He considered it for several days, and then decided to go. On the inside, he was a mess. On the outside, however, he looked perfectly neat and under control. He had grown accustomed to pasting a false smile on his face to hide the pain he still felt. Maybe he would feel better if he got away from here, away from all the memories. He had sold their home on Earth as soon as possible, only taking a few home movies and photos of happier days and the black stone with him, but even here on Station Prime they were still haunting him. He could never forget, and the pain would never subside. No matter how hard he tried to bury the pain, the fact that they would never come back remained. They were dead.

Seven months later, he was kneeling in the dirt on a planet called Alpha Omega 3. His wounded hand was clasping that of a woman he barely knew, both of them desperately trying to rouse an alien artifact. Their only hope was to wake it, to get it to help them, help destroy its creators and masters. He felt Anna next to him, her mind close to his, felt how their thoughts intertwined. She was calling now, _Wake up! Wake up!_ and he sensed the mouse's response. He was ready to die.

Then another voice called out, an alien voice. It filled his mind, and he wanted to scream. It showed him pictures of his wife and daughter, on the transport, just before they were about to die. It told him about their pain, and how it still continued to this day. How they weren't dead, how they were still dying. He screamed.

"Stop it! Stop it!" He was shaking now, sobs racking his body.

_All that is desired_, the voice whispered in his mind. _All that is desired._

They were promising to end the pain, to help them. He felt Anna next to him, heard her call him, doubting the truthfulness of their words. She was the only thing that kept him from going insane at this very moment, his only connection to reality. He was once more being torn apart. What should he do? What could he do? How could they not be dead?

He felt the necklace around his neck, the one Anna had made for him so that he'd never forget, so that he could always carry their love with him, and he shook his head. No, no one could give him back his wife and daughter. As he felt the darkness shifting, the shadows moving toward them, he smiled one last smile, and it finally reached his eyes. It was over. _Love abides no borders._ The stone pressed into his clenched fist as he reached out with his mind and joined Anna's voice. He sensed the artifact finally waking up, and then there was only light as it responded to their combined urging. The ensuing explosion outshined all the shadows surrounding them.

_D'Vech creor chol._ No more false smiles.

He was dead.

_Part Three _or_ An Answer He Never Got_

The corridor was quiet and dark, just like almost every corridor in this part of the station. He decided that he liked it that way; it fit his mood. His associates weren't content, they had made that much clear. It wasn't his fault, he really had done his best, but somehow his efforts had been fruitless so far. Still, as he approached the quarters of the next ambassador on his mental checklist, the smile that always hid his true feelings stayed on. This one was the most promising of them all. Full of anger, hatred, and regret, he was a perfect target for his associates. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt their quiet whispers; orders, thoughts, plans, everything they wanted him to know. For him there would never again be silence.

There, the ambassador was leaving his quarters. He had barely made it in time. Mollari seemed to be in a hurry, tightly clutching a box with his left arm. He of course knew what it contained, his associates had told him all about it. It was very important that he succeeded this time. The smile broadening on his face, he called out: "Ah, Ambassador, I was just on my way to see you. My name is…"

Before he could continue, the ambassador cut him short: "I'm sorry, but I don't have time to chat right now. I suggest you make an appointment." He continued to walk toward the transport tube.

"I did." He had to talk to him. Now. This time, failure wouldn't be excused.

"Then make another one." Mollari hastily pushed the call button. "Never a transport tube when you need one," he muttered.

"Ambassador, I was authorized to speak to you." Time was running out.

"Yes, yes. Look, what do you want?" The ambassador was becoming more and more annoyed.

The smile on his face broadened. What a nice coincidence! His associates were pleased. "That's what I was gonna ask you! What do _you _want?" They were listening very intently now.

Mollari frowned. "You are a lunatic. Go away. Pester someone else." With those words, he entered the tube that had finally arrived.

That wasn't the response he - they - had been hoping to get. He could feel their unrest in the back of his mind. They wanted - forced - him to try harder; he had to concentrate now to keep on the smile as he followed the ambassador into the tube and quietly looked at him, waiting.

The computer chimed in, easing the tension somewhat: "Destination?"

"Bay 12." More and more annoyed. Mollari turned his head to look at him: "You are a very persistent young man." Almost fatherly. The ambassador was old, he noted, almost surprised.

"I have to be." Oh, yes, he had to. "I'm not allowed to leave here until you've answered my question." Failure wasn't acceptable. "What do you want?"

"This is a silly conversation."

No, it wasn't, but how was this one supposed to know, at this point in time? "Yes, it is." Then the doors opened, and the ambassador had reached his destination. Time had run out. Hurry!

"To be left alone." And Mollari left, without turning back.

He didn't follow. Had he failed? Clasping his hands behind his back, he tried one final time: "Is that it? Is that really all, Ambassador?"

For a few seconds, Mollari seemed to hesitate. Then a quiet sigh escaped him, and he looked very tired all of a sudden. Finally, he replied: "Yes." And then he continued to walk away, without turning back.

He had failed.

_Part Four _or _Who Never Let Him Die_

Looking back at it, he found it difficult to remember what exactly had gone wrong. Everything still felt like a dream, and he wasn't even sure that he was awake now. All he knew for sure was that there had been a fight, causing chaos and destruction, and then the harsh light of an explosion so bright that it outshined everything else. He did not understand how any of this could have happened, but the fact that he was here now, completely alone for the first time in years, remained.

His masters were gone.

The very thought scared him more than anything else that had happened, more than anything he had done in the past years.

Even the knowledge of the many lives he had taken - or made other take - wasn't as terrifying as the complete emptiness in his head. Ever since his "conversation" with the techno-mage Galen, he had known how his associates were influencing him; from those brief moments when Galen had severed their connection he still painfully remembered the feeling of a loss so terrible that it had seemed even worse than that of his wife and daughter. He had longed so much to get it back that he hadn't even been capable of seriously considering to follow the techno-mage for one single second. Only the knowledge that his masters would be back and kill the mage soon had helped him to remain his composure back then.

Now, however, things were completely different; he knew that this time it wouldn't be over in a couple of minutes. Maybe it would never be over. Maybe he would have to bear the loneliness and feeling of regret for the rest of his life. However short that might be.

He suppressed a shudder at that thought. Better a false feeling of happiness than dying like this. Or even worse, being forced to live with the knowledge of everything he had done as he dutifully served his masters. Anything would be better than that. He thought of his wife, his daughter. Suddenly he realized that he hadn't thought of them in years. With the memories the pain came back, and it seemed to crush him with its intensity, as fresh and powerful as it had been the day when he had learnt of their death. Closing his eyes, he called out for his masters. They had to come back, and take the thoughts away! He couldn't bear them! Where were they? Why didn't they help him?

Why?

Gritting his teeth against the maddening pain that shot like hot fire through his whole body, he tried to lift his head. Something seemed to be wrong with his eyes; as he opened them, everything was strangely blurred and the colours were wrong somehow. He more sensed than knew that he was lying on the floor of a cave. There didn't appear to be anyone else around. He wondered if he could be the sole survivor of the attack. Could Galen and Sheridan really have succeeded in destroying the whole Shadow base on Z'ha'dum? He swallowed, hard.

Maybe that meant the end of the war. There were of course other bases on other planets, but with Z'ha'dum the Shadows would have lost their centre of operations, their Eye, and much worse, their home world. Even Morden didn't know how many Shadows actually participated in this war, but if his suspicions were right, then the destruction of Z'ha'dum would have hit them really hard.

In his mind the doctrines of his masters were still echoing. He was unable to grasp the very notion that the Vorlons might actually have won the war by this action. Impossible! They couldn't win! Chaos had to succeed! That was all there could be in the end: chaos and evolution. Evolve, or die. Order had to lead to destruction, not the other way round.

Once more, he tried to get up. He had to know for sure, had to find out how badly they had been hit. After all, if he had managed to survive, then his masters surely would have been able to do the same…

Wouldn't they?

Suddenly he thought he heard a distant voice. No, two voices, barely audible. Straining his senses, he tried to locate their position, but failed. He wanted to call out to alert them to his existence, but he found that he was too weak. Frustrated, he let his head fall back. He would have to wait.

It seemed to take ages until something changed. Maybe he had lost consciousness once more in the meantime, he couldn't tell. A sudden feeling of warmth that spread all over his body had roused him. He wanted to open his eyes to see what was happening, but he was too tired. All he wanted to do was sleep.

Then a voice said his name.

He blinked. Who was that? How could they know…? No one had used his first name in years. Not since… Not since his love had died. His voice was hoarse as he managed to voice the question: "Who are you?"

"I go by many names, but you may call me Lorien."

He forced his eyes open, and found that he could see more clearly now. He did not know the alien that stood over him, but there was a gentleness in its eyes that made him relax, if ever so slightly. He was safe, for now.

"I was asked to help you. Do you wish to be helped?"

The question confused him. He had been prepared to die. Who was this being that it seemed to hold so much power? Why did it even care? Did it not know who he was, what he had done? He hesitated.

Did he want to be saved?

He was so tired, so very tired. When he had woken up for the first time, he had been desperate to find out what had happened. All he had been able to think of was how to find his masters. But now… He felt that he was able to think clearer, and with that clarity came the realization that maybe death would be the better choice. The longer he was alone, the more he understood what he had done.

Was he worthy of being saved?

Inwardly, he shook his head. He had become the perfect tool for his masters. He had done everything they had told him to do, and thus had become a murderer of thousands, millions, billions. He shuddered at the thought. No, he shouldn't be allowed to live. He didn't want to live with that knowledge.

He finally realized that the Shadows had only told him lies. His wife and daughter were dead. They had never wanted to save them. No, his former masters had only used him, had used his false hope to abuse him. Oh, god, what had he done?

The alien was still waiting patiently for his answer. He felt that it would respect his choice without hesitation.

He was so tired, so very tired…

Looking up once more, he shook his head ever so slightly. It had to end now.

The alien merely cocked its head once in reply, not judging, not condemning.

With a sigh, Morden closed his eyes one last time, and fell asleep as the warmth enveloped him completely.

Peace, finally.

_Part Five _or_ How He Might Have Been Delivered_

He woke with a start to the sound of water nearby. A bird was crying out in the air above him, and the scent of the sea filled his nostrils.

Where was he?

The last thing he remembered was the sharp edge of the sword as it cut into the skin on his neck. He could almost still feel the blade, the cold steel, the way his neck had prickled at the sudden touch…

With shaking fingers, he lifted his right hand and tried to find the wound.

Nothing. His skin was intact, not even a scratch.

Had it been nothing but a bad dream?

No. As he closed eyes, he could see in his mind's eye the smug grin on Mollari's face as he had ordered the destruction of the peninsula that had hosted his masters. It had been as real as the wet sand on his fingertips. They were dead. He was dead.

But if he was really dead, then were was he? It sure didn't feel or look like the hell he had been expecting to await him…

Still confused, he slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked around to decipher where exactly he had woken up. It was a beach, all right. The sun was shining brightly above him, and there even were a few palm trees nearby. This really didn't make any sense at all.

With a shrug he decided that he might just as well get up and explore this strange place. A long time ago this had been his job, after all. He gingerly got to his feet and then simply stood there for a few moments. Shaking his head, he tried to brush off the sand that was sticking to his damp pants. He probably looked like a bum who had had a few glasses too much the past night! He sure felt like it...

He began to walk, and since the direction didn't really seem to matter, chose to follow the beach as it went towards the already sinking sun. There were no signs of other humans or aliens being nearby. His only companions were the birds in the sky high above him. Silently, he went on.

It felt like he had been walking like this for hours, when suddenly he thought he could hear laughter in the distance. It only lasted for a few heartbeats, but his pace quickened instantly. Maybe he wasn't alone after all!

As he got closer to where he thought the sound had originated, he noticed a small bay. The beach was bending inwards there, and the vegetation seemed to grow much thicker and more colourful. The sun had sunk so low by now that it's orange light was shining directly into his eyes and thus making it difficult to tell what exactly lay ahead of him. He blinked, and tried to shade his eyes with his hands, but it didn't help much. He started to jog, following a strange feeling that urged him to go faster.

Someone was waiting for him.

There, more laughter! He was getting close! Suddenly the thick top of an old tree shaded his face from the sun, and he finally was able to see what lay ahead of him.

He stopped, shocked.

There were two people at the beach with him, a woman and a girl. The girl was happily running after a brightly coloured ball and completely oblivious to his existence. She was the origin of the laughter he had heard earlier. The woman however seemed to have noticed him. She didn't appear to be scared or surprised. Instead, she raised her arm in greeting and waved him over.

Confused, he slowly walked towards them. He wasn't close enough yet to be able to see their faces, but he felt that he knew them. Something seemed to grip his heart, and he swallowed hard. It couldn't be… He didn't dare to hope. He still remembered only too vividly where his hope had gotten him the last time he had allowed himself to follow it.

The woman had been sitting on what appeared to be a woollen blanket, but now she got up and began to walk towards him. Without realizing it, he clenched his fists so hard that his fingernails dug sharply into his skin. He froze. He couldn't go on. Her face. Her face…

She had almost reached him now.

His throat contracted as he fought the tears that were dwelling up in his eyes.

"Hello, my love."

He couldn't speak.

She smiled, the sweetest smile he had ever seen. Just as he had composed himself enough to be able to reply, the little girl suddenly ran towards him and threw her tiny arms around him.

"Daddy, daddy! You are here! You are finally here! We've been waiting for you for so long!"

As he fell to his knees, unable to contain the tears any longer, he noticed somewhere in the back of his mind how the necklace with the black stone pressed into his skin.

Maybe there was a god after all.


End file.
